


They Think They Know Everything About Me

by Silveriss



Category: Original Work
Genre: A side m/m relationship, Awkward Flirting, Bi awakening, Cheerleader/Nerdy girl, Climbing trees cause we're young, Everything I know about the American school life is cliché but I did my best, F/F, Femslash, First Gay Crush, High School, I like Gabi a lot, Lots of Smiling, Lots of glancing too, Milkshakes, Mostly Fluff, Original Character(s), Original work - Freeform, Sapphic, Short Chapters, Some light bullying, That one football game, bus rides, some language, teenagers being teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-30 08:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6417238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silveriss/pseuds/Silveriss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex Wallen is the tall, blond, athletic cheerleader everyone loves.<br/>Nancy Campbell-Park is the nerd who wears glasses and gets shoved in the hallway for no reason.<br/>They could not be more different... But not everything is as it seems, and when the both of them collide, they can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, this could actually work.</p><p>(Inspired by a prompt seen on tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!
> 
> First of all, thank you so much for clicking my story's name. I hope you won't be disappointed!
> 
> Second of all, I'm not a native English speaker, so there might be some weird grammar/spelling/use of word. Please forgive me, and don't hesitate to tell me where it is so I can fix it!
> 
> I would absolutely adore you If you would be so kind as to leave kudos and/or a review. They're no less but the oxygen of the writer's soul.  
> I also have a tumblr (@wulfrann), so if you'd like to contact me, please do! I'm always ready to talk.
> 
> I'll let you read in peace now!

**Nancy**

As I open my eyes, I'm laying on my bed, Beethoven's fifth symphony filling my bedroom with well-known notes. Their usual melody is knotting with the feeble rays of sun my curtains let filter in.

I take a moment to inhale the morning air. Light fills my lungs, replacing the bad thoughts with humble hopes.

Ms Dalon is going to give us our tests back today. I'm good at math. Maybe I'll get a perfect score. The thought makes me smile. Even though I'm the top of my class, a perfect score is not something I get that often.

Anyway, I'm awake. I should get out of bed if I don't want to be late. Once I’m up, I put my glasses on, along with some clothes. I then leave my room to make my way to the kitchen, but I'm soon running back in. I had forgotten to switch the music off. Typical.

Make me read a formula and I'll never forget it. But give me a removable head, and you can be sure I will leave it somewhere and never find it again.

When I walk into the kitchen, the clouds of sleep around my head have dissipated enough to kiss my mom good-bye, but not to miss tripping on the carpet. I catch the table to keep my balance. "Frizzy lizards of Oz!" I swear, my words echoing way too loudly in the early peace of the apartment.

I freeze. For a moment I'm just standing there, waiting for something to happen. The yell of a neighbor, a bark of the dog living upstairs, a lightning breaking the roof to grill me on the spot, anything. You never know what could happen, especially in the morning when you have dreams as absurd as mine.

After forty seconds of silent waiting, though, the only answer I get is silence. I guess it's safe to keep my morning routine going. I finish my trip to the coffee machine and make myself a big Latte. The first gulp burns my tongue and makes steam form on my glasses. I smile.

Routine is good.

At least that's what I like to tell myself.

______________

Pretty much every day of my life is the same.

I wake up, forget to switch my music off, kiss my mom, drink a coffee, ride my bike to school. Then I attend my morning classes, eat lunch with Sasha and Ibrahim, my best and only friends, and we play cards while talking about books, memes and mangas. I tell them to stop calling me "Nancy Drew", and they sing the stupid nickname to me with toothy grins, and I forget to be angry. I attend my afternoon classes then chess or library club depending on the day, and around 6, I ride back home. There I do my homework, give a hand to my dad in the kitchen, and welcome my mother home. We all eat dinner together, and after that I settle in my bed to read for a while before switching the lights off around 11.

(At my locker I pretend not to see James and Jessica sloppily making out not 15 centimeters away from me.)

(In class like in the hallways, I ignore the whispers, looks and mocking remarks I get. Sometimes I don't even notice anymore.)

(Between classes I walk with my nose in a book, making detours and stealing glances.)

(In chess club I destroy my opponent without mercy; in library club I get over-enthusiastic and make everyone laugh.)

(On my way home I make a detour by the stadium and watch from afar, hidden behind my glasses.)

Yes, every day is pretty much the same : with hints of smiles and sparks of interest, but generally monotonous.

Except the days _she_ looks at me.

* * *

  **Alex**

The strident cry of my alarm clock makes me jump in my bed. I sit up, groggy with sleep, and search blindly for the off-button. It doesn't work that well because at the same time, I'm trying to put my hair out of my face. Why do I have long hair again? Ah, yes : it's what every girl does. And it's pretty.

When the annoying ringtone keeps yelling despite my efforts to shut it off, I groan. I get out of my bed, slightly off-balance, and smash a firm hand on the top of the electronic culprit. A bit too strongly, maybe, but I'm easily pissed off in the morning, okay?

A soft *click* later, I'm rewarded with a blanket of silence and I huff in relief.

Now completely awake, I walk around the mess of clothes and papers littering my bedroom floor to reach the window, and in a wide, dynamic movement- put the curtain off the rod.

Typical.

"Shit", I say, before tossing the red fabric aside, then sighing. On the other side of the glass, everything's lovely and full of life, as joyful as any stereotypical spring day could get. And the sun is too bright. I squint.

"Mornings fucking suck", I tell the birds.

They don't answer.

______________

My hair’s so tangled today, I almost miss the bus. Pretty sure my make up's crap, too.

I greet the bus driver absently as I check my card then walk to my usual spot at the back, careful not to trip. I sit. An earbud falls off my ear. I huff and put it back in, wishing my headphone wasn't broken.

I should probably have thought about that _before_ throwing it on my bedroom wall, but I didn't think it would break. Unless I’d wanted it to break. I don't know. It was stupid either way.

A pop song with meaningless lyrics fills the bus, blurring the other passengers as I let the side of my head rest on the bus window. I stop thinking.

______________

Soon enough, I’m joined by some of my friends. I'm the one who lives the further away from our high school, but not the only one to take the bus. I take one of my earbuds out and we start chatting about boys, fashion, new songs and the upcoming football game. It's nice, but also kinda boring. Don't get me wrong, I love my friends (and _they_ love _me_ ), I just wish we'd talk about other things sometimes. Like, I don't know, there's plenty of other topics, right? But we always end up talking about those four things. Games, fashion, songs, and boys. Songs, games, boys, and fashion. I guess that's what you do when you're a popular girl. That's me, by the way. _The_ popular girl, even. Everybody knows me. My name, the size of my boobs, the jobs of my parents, my grades, which guy I've been with - everything.

I'm only glancing out the window when I catch a glimpse of her. She's riding her bike, like every day. And wearing a skirt. A dark blue, knee-length skirt, with a purple cardigan. Her dark hair is flying behind because of the speed. She's not going as fast as the bus, though, and soon I can't see her anymore.

When I join back in my friends' conversation, they're planning to go shopping after cheer practice today. I hear myself agreeing to go with them, my mind elsewhere. I think that maybe they don't know _everything_ about me, and I feel better.

And then I think _Not yet_ , and an icy weight settles in my stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate you.
> 
> Please consider leaving a review, no matter how long. Even if it's just one word, it would mean the world to me!
> 
> I hope to see you for the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex doesn’t care about maths, Sasha has self-esteem issues and Nancy’s a bad friend.
> 
> Alternatively: let's meet Nancy's friends!

**Alex**

I'm sitting in the back of the classroom as Ms Dalon is giving our tests back. I'm neither focused on what the teacher does nor on my friends' idle chatting. I'm looking at her. Kinda. I'm gazing out the window, then glancing at her, then back at the window. Occasionally I answer to a question one of my friends asks me. They know I'm grumpy in the morning, though, so they don’t bug me too much. 

Which leaves me alone with the gazing and glancing. It's pathetic, I know. I just can't help it. Besides, I'm not doing anything bad. I'm just looking at her. I can look at a classmate if I want to. There's nothing wrong with that. I do what I want with my own damn eyes.

The maths teacher is handing her her test, a fond expression on her face - all the teachers adore her. I can see her taking the sheet of paper, then smiling proudly. Brightly. I only notice my own smile when a dumbass throws a paper ball at her and makes me lose it. She doesn't, though. Lose her smile, I mean. She never lets others ruin her mood. I don't know how she does it. I'd have broken the guy's nose if I was her.

That's another thing people don't know about me, I guess. My being violent when pissed off. I wouldn't be that popular if they did. A good girl's not supposed to be brutal, especially if she's one of the school's cheerleaders and has long, straight blond hair, and makeup on her face. It doesn't matter that cheerleading involves carrying and throwing girls you age in the air; it's girly so, not a real sport, right? Just like dancing or, I don't know, ice skating.

We still have a boy in the team, though. Elliot. Great kid, not that feminine but hella gay. Doesn't really help bringing the stereotypes down.

I look at her again. Her hair's a mess of long, kinda bluish black locks falling on her shoulders. Like a dark and wild ocean. She's looking at the blackboard, paying attention and taking notes - like I should be doing. Instead I wonder if she, too, thinks cheerleading isn't a sport. I hope she doesn't, though it wouldn't make a difference anyway.

We never talk. I'm the most popular girl in the whole school, and she's just the nerdy kid everyone makes fun of. I shouldn't even be looking at her, she's not worthy of my attention.

At least that's what my friends would say.

* * *

**Nancy**

Sasha and Ibrahim are frantic today. They're whispering furiously when I sit at my usual spot next to Ibrahim, and when I ask what they're talking about, they hiss at me to pipe down.

"Elliot's gonna ask Sash' out!" Ibrahim says in a breath, and the other boy slaps him on the arm. I look at Sasha with a question in my eyes and he shakes his head, ears red like tomatoes. In the back of my mind, a voice tells me Elliot's one of  _ her _ friends. I hush the voice away. 

"Ibrahim says he heard Elliot talking to Jess about it, but there's no way it's happening", he says, looking down at his food.

"Why do you think that?" I ask him, but he just shakes his head again. I turn to look at Ibrahim. He rolls his eyes.

"The guy's been like this since I've told him! Thinks no one could possibly like him, let alone Elliot. I've been trying to convince him all morning but it's no use. It's true, though."

"No it's not and you know it", Sasha sighs.

I frown. "Why not? You two are friends, right?" I’ve only met Elliot a few times, but he seemed to genuinely care about Sasha.

"That's the point. We're  _ friends _ ." He sounds bitter, and I know why. Sasha has had a huge crush on Elliot for two years, and they have been friends for less than one. It took Sash’ a lot of courage to even  _ think _ about trying to befriend him.

"You're afraid to have your hopes up, aren’t you?" I ask, although I already know the answer.

"I'm totally out of his league", he mumbles, then louder : "Yes, I'm scared to have my hopes crushed, then stomped on." He sounds hollow so I squeeze his hand in an attempt to comfort him. He immediately pulls it out of my reach to gesture wildly, his voice an angry cry. "Which is what's gonna happen because there's no fucking way Elliot-I'm-gay-and-a-cheerleader-but-no-one-cares-'cause-I'm-too-popular- Collins  _ likes me back _ !" His sentence cracks on the last word and he falls immediately quiet, arms crossed like a shield. His eyes are shining with unshed tears.

Ibrahim immediately stands out of his seat to pull his friend into a big hug, muttering  _ sorry _ s and  _ it's okay _ s. I can only stare, body and mind frozen in silent panic. Sasha's words are echoing in my head, stabbing my heart without mercy. I think about how I took a detour just so I could stare at  _ her  _ back on my way to the cafeteria. I think about how she's perfect, and popular, and how I am not. I think about how we never even  _ talked _ .

My best friend is crying in the arms of my other best friend and all I'm thinking about is how I'm stupid to think she could bother to even _ look _ at me.

I'm so selfish I want to cry. Instead I get up and help Ibrahim comfort Sasha.

When he's calmed down, we take him out to play cards on a bench, under the bright spring sun. Nobody mentions Elliot until the end of lunch break, when I leave them to go get my gym outfit out of my locker.

PE is the only discipline I'm not good at, and I kind of hate it. But it doesn't mean I can be late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You're the best.
> 
> Please consider leaving kudos and/or a review, as they are my writing's fuel.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy hates dodgeball, and Alex just gives her more reason to. Or does she?
> 
> TW : light bullying, some very very light injuries, also PE class (I know, horrible)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The actual plot starts! The chapters might get slightly longer after this one.  
> (I'm not making any promise though)
> 
> Please enjoy!

**Nancy**

As always, the teacher makes us warm up with a game of dodgeball. Also as always, I'm the last one to be picked by one of the two teams. I'm used to it by now, but it still makes me feel self-conscious. Or maybe it's the fact that Alex is wearing shorts. I can't help but stare a little. She looks amazing - she always does. Then the game starts, and I can't stare anymore because there's a ball flying and people running, and I remember I have to run, too. I don't understand half of what's going on. I'm in everyone's way.

I feel like dough being beaten by dozens of whisks.

"Go on, Alex! Knock the four-eyed nerd!" I hear from a corner of the field, not fully understanding what those words mean until something hard hits my face. I hear bursting of laughter and a cry as I fall on the ground, then thousands of feet running in my head. I don't think I make a single sound. I'm too stunned to even try to sit up. I just lay on the ground, waiting for something to happen.

I think I can hear the teacher yelling. Snickers. Laughs. Steps. Bouncing of a ball. Talking.

A hand on my shoulder.

A worried voice.

"Hey, are you okay? You're conscious, aren't you? Shit, I'm so sorry, I wasn't aiming for your head, I swear! Can you speak?"

Blue eyes. Blond hair. Tanned skin.

_Alex._

I try to sit up but the pain makes me wince. I feel an arm around my back. I look at Alex as she apologizes again. I can't find my voice. The world's reeling. I focus on the arm now wrapped around my shoulder, on the faint scent of vanilla exuding from her, and I try to speak.

"I... I'm okay... I think."

Alex sighs and I feel her breath on my cheek. She sounds relieved. "Fuck, thank god, I thought I'd hit you so hard you couldn't speak." She searches for my gaze and when she finds it, she holds it. Her eyes are so much bluer up close. Greyish blue. Like a storm. "Are you really okay?"

No. No, I'm not. You're way too close.

"My head feels like a... a bell, but otherwise I think I'm okay." I say instead, looking down at my hands because I can't stand being so close to her. They're scratched, but nothing bad.

"I'm so fucking sorry, I swear I didn't want that to happen. Are you hurt anywhere else?" Before I can answer, the teacher kneels in front of me and asks if I can get up. His face is a blur. I lift my hand to my temple, but the frame of my glasses isn't where it should be.

"Here", Alex says, and she's handing me a pair of broken glasses. I take them without a word. "I'm really sorry. I'll pay you back."

I shake my head to make her understand she doesn't have to. Of course, the gesture feels like a hammer trying to break my skull from inside, and all that crosses my lips is a whimper.

"I don't think she can stand, sir", Alex says. "Do you want me to take her to the nurse's office?"

I want to say I'm fine, but I'm not. Besides, I don't think talking is a good idea right now.

I don't understand why she's so concerned about me. She's the one who hit me, sure, but everyone laughed. Did _she_ laugh? I hope she didn't. But then again, everyone did. After all it's not the first time I'm hit by a ball in PE. It's the first time someone actually breaks my glasses, though.

The teacher agrees with Alex and asks her if she needs someone else to help her. She says no, and he doesn't insist. Soon she's meeting my eyes again. She looks guilty and worried. Ashamed. Mortified, even.

I start to stand up on my own but Alex quickly takes my arm and wraps it around her shoulders. Her grip is firm but somehow careful, too. "Here, let me help", she says. I let her. I find out she's a bit taller than me, and way broader.

We walk all the way to the infirmary like that.

My world is a broken blur that smells like vanilla.

* * *

**Alex**

I feel like a piece of shit. I probably am.

The guilt is eating me alive.

I should have asked Jess to take her in our team. She's always picked last in gym. I don't know why. It must feel horrible, to be so unwanted. She's not even that bad in gym. I don't get it.

I should have asked Jess to take her in our team, but that's something I should have done months ago. Years, even.

There's something playing in a loop in my head. How Kyle shouted at me to _knock the four-eyed nerd._ How I obeyed without a second thought. How the ball hit her, hard, in the face. How she fell without so much as a yelp.

How everybody burst out laughing as soon as she was hit.

I didn't laugh. I screamed.

I'd like to take that as a proof I'm not as cruel as the others. I can't, though. Because I'm the one who did it. I'm the one who threw the ball at her just because some asshole told me to. I didn't even _think_ about it. I should have realized it was wrong. I should not have done it. I should have thrown the ball at Kyle, make sure he'd never say shit like that again. I think I will. I think I fucking will.

But later.

Right now, I'm staring at her as the nurse examines her head. Disinfects the wounds I made her. Checks for symptoms of a concussion.

I'm no better than the others.

I'm a bully.

__________

When the nurse is done, he tells me I can go back to class. I squeeze my fists.

"Can I stay here? It's my fault. I can't just go like nothing happened."

Nancy shoots me an odd look. Is she surprised?

"You don't have to", she says. She sounds unsure.

"But-", I start. The nurse interrupts me with a lifted hand.

"Actually, I have to go help Mr Gerry in... " He checks his watch. "... 8 minutes, so I'd appreciate having someone there to make sure she doesn't lose consciousness."

"I can do that", I say, catching the occasion before he changes his mind.

"But as soon as I return, you go back to your classes." He turns towards Nancy. "If you don't have a problem with her staying, that is."

I can see her hesitating. She glances at me, then : "I have no problem with that."

I swear my heart leaps in my ribcage.

The nurse leads her to a bed and tells her to rest. He tells me to be careful not to let her fall asleep. I nod. He leaves to gather the things he'll need and I sit on the chair next to the bed. Nancy is leaning her back against the bed base and staring at her hands. They're scratched. I remember her grimacing as the nurse cleaned them.

I feel out of place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Please consider leaving a review, you have no idea how much brighter it would make my day.
> 
> Until next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk. Nancy realizes something, and Alex is a dork who's good at pretending that she's good at hiding that she's a dork.

**Nancy**

I don't understand why she's still here. She has not said anything to me since we left the field. The nurse has left only a minute ago but it feels like an hour has passed.

Perhaps I should have said that I _did_ have a problem with her staying. I was hoping we would talk, but I don't think she wants to. She is only here to be at peace with her conscience, after all.

Does she regret offering to stay now?

I glance at Alex, expecting to find her bored and zoning out. It's not how she is at all.

She looks tensed. Uncomfortable. Somber.

When I meet her gaze, I think she lights up, and my hands become sweaty.

"Er..." she says, unsure, "Are you... feeling better now?"

That _is_ a start, I guess. "Yes. Thank you for... For staying, and helping me get up. And walk." I try a smile. She looks bewildered.

"I'm the one who hit you, y'know that, right?"

"But you didn't want to, did you?" I say hesitantly. "That's... what you said earlier. You didn't do it on purpose."

Alex shakes her head, though not to contradict what I said. She just looks confused. "It's still my fault. You shouldn't thank me like it wasn't the fucking least I could do."

I guess she's right. But on the other hand, she's the one who came to help me when everyone else was laughing. She apologized, and I could see she meant it in her eyes.

"Did you- Did you laugh? When I fell?"

She stands up so fast I start. "Of course not!" She exclaims, sounding offended.

I offer her a smile. "Then I'm not mad at you."

"Because I didn't _laugh_? The ball hit you in the damn face!"

"Everyone else did."

Alex opens her mouth as if to say something, but she quickly reconsiders. As she thinks, my eyes wander.

They begin at her shoulders, bare and tanned, and square, strands of straight blond hair brushing them. Her arms are muscles covered with the softest-looking skin. I let my eyes fall lower and before I know it, I find myself staring at her thighs again. I wonder how it would feel to touch them, and then I realize what I'm doing and my eyes dart away. I feel my neck and cheeks burning. A match could probably be lit up only by scratching it against my skin.

Feeling way too self-conscious to keep looking at her, I settle on my hands instead. For the third time today, I notice they are scratched. It stings a little.

"I'm sorry."

Alex's voice makes me look up. She's frowning at the bed, fists closed against her sides, as if planning to beat it down to pulp - cotton pulp.

"I've already forgiven you", I say.

At first I think I have made things worst, but then she sighs, and with the breath leaving her lungs goes the tension out of her nerves.

She eventually stops glaring at the mattress and slumps back in her chair, looking confused and beautiful, her ponytail whipping the air around her neck in an hypnotic motion.

I force myself back to reality. I don't think I would actually call this whole exchange 'talking', but maybe I can fix that. And if she doesn't want to talk to the four-eyed nerd that I am, at least I would have tried.

"Do you like dodgeball?"

I agree, not the best I could have come up with. It still is something, though.

* * *

**Alex**

"Do you like dodgeball?" The question comes out of nowhere. I was so deep in my thoughts, trying to understand why she'd forgive me just like that, I must admit I jump a little.

"Are you serious?" I ask her, bewildered, when my brain finally understands what she just said. I mean, the girl isn't real. You don't just ask the person who threw a ball in your face _so hard you fucking fell_ if they like the game you were both playing when they did it.

Then again, you're not supposed to forgive them that easily, either.

Nancy is looking at me expectantly, like she really wants to know the answer to that stupid question. Worst part is, she probably does.

Worst worst part? I find that _cute_.

"Yeah", I end up mumbling, "I like it." I almost ask her the same thing, but think better of it when I remember why we're here, and talking. It's ironic, when you think about it. That me, Alex-the-popular-cheerleader, would have to (accidentally) send the local nerd to the nurse's office to talk to her for the first time. Doesn't mean I won't enjoy it while I can, though.

It's when I hear Nancy shifting on the bed that I realize I should probably say something. So, I do.

"What music do you like?"

Yeah, I know, pretty neutral, right? It's what I always start with when I meet someone. Who doesn't like music, after all?

...I hope she does. Thinking about it, I've never seen her with headphones. Or earbuds. Whenever I see her, she's either studying or reading. Shit, am I stereotyping her? Just because you're a nerd doesn't mean you don't like music. Wait. Not a nerd. That's what the others say. A good student. _That's_ what she is.

"I... like classical music", she says slowly, and I almost groan. Seriously? What kind of teenager listens to classical? I'm not even sure my grandmother listens to classical. "Jazz, too, and Ska... Sometimes rock." Oh. Well. That's better. At least I know some rock bands. I don't know shit about classical music. "What about you?" My eyes shoot up at that. She's looking at me expectantly again. Waiting. Her eyes are brown, soft. Not hazel. Darker. They are the color of the earth that lays under the moss. And so deep... I can't look away. I don't want to, either.

"Pop, mostly, but I'm not difficult." I shrug. "As long as it's not too slow, I can listen."

"Why?"

"I like to feel invincible", I answer, grinning. Nancy stares at me a little and I stare back, not really understanding the expression she's wearing. It looks a bit like surprise, but also something else...Curiosity, maybe? Whatever it is, it makes my guts coil. I feel the urge to tap my knees, but I don't. She'd notice. Instead, I clasp my hands together and casually lean my elbows on my knees. At least I hope it looks casual. I mean, I'm usually pretty good at playing nonchalant when I'm nervous. Not that I'm nervous. It's just that when I _am_ -

She averts her eyes. Her head makes a soft sound as she lets it fall against the wall.

"Why do you like to feel invincible?"

"Doesn't everyone?" I ask back, trying not to stare at the pale curve of her neck.

"I don't... And this was not an answer."

She has a birthmark on her neck, under the corner of her jawline. It's oddly fascinating.

"I guess it's kinda like getting high, or drunk. I know it's artificial, just a feeling, but it's just so good and liberating that I couldn't care less."

The atmosphere in the room is weird. The circumstances are strange. We've never talked, and yet she just asked me something kinda deep and personal. I should feel uncomfortable. I should be looking for a way to switch the topic to a safer one. Something like the upcoming game, or fashion. Boys. Something familiar and meaningless.

But I don't want to.

Maybe I'm tired of meaningless. Maybe I'm tired of fashion, and boys, and pretty, long, blond hair, and boring chatting that goes in endless loops.

Unless it's this scent in the air. Like the comfy blanket you have on your legs when you stay up late to watch a movie with your friends. Something that invites secrets to be shared.

Maybe it's both.

* * *

**Nancy**

I can hear the sincerity she puts in her answer, and it surprises me. Not only that, but the way she says that it's liberating and artificial… It sounds almost like a confidence. I feel grateful for it. She has barely stopped talking, yet I already now I will replay these words in my head all night, and the nights that will follow. Replay this glimpse of her true and more vulnerable self she showed me.

A pair of seconds flows before she speaks again.

"So, why don't you?" She asks, sounding curious. I want to look at her, see if she really means it, if there is something more behind. I want to look at her and let myself simply fly into her eyes. But I fear I would find nothing, so I keep my gaze locked on the ceiling instead.

"I prefer to feel alive", I begin. "Or rather, I prefer to feel like myself. Flaws, fears, weaknesses… More than intelligence, beauty, courage- I believe that's what makes us really… well, us. I never feel more alive than when I'm out of my comfort zone."

As I talk, I realize that although I've never said that to anyone, I don't feel self-conscious at all. Somehow, the atmosphere is so that even my crush being my interlocutor doesn't make me uncomfortable.

_My crush._

Did I really think that? It feels… bizarre. But so _right_. As if I had finally found the answer to a question I never knew I wanted to ask.

Alex doesn't let me ponder about it.

"Like when?" She asks, not even the slightest hint of mockery in her voice.

I feel the urge to turn toward her again, but this time I don't fight it. I just yield and let my head tilt on my left, let my eyes find her own. Meeting them feels like a blast of wind. She's closer than I thought, leaning a bit on her elbows, her knees touching the side of the bed.

Her eyes widens with surprise. She holds my gaze.

"Like... right now", I tell her softly.

She doesn't answer.

We are staring at each other.

We are children in a pillow fort - far away from the world, its people and their rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and also a big thank you also to all of you that offered me a review and/or kudos, my heart does a little victory dance every time!
> 
> Please consider leaving a review, no matter how long, they're my personal rainbows.
> 
> See you next chapter if you want to!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex out, Sasha and Elliot in. We also get a glimpse of Nancy's dad.
> 
> TW: A homophobic remark in Alex's part. It's corrected immediately, but if it makes you uncomfortable, just skip Alex's part. It's not really relevant to the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! How are you all doing?  
> Sorry I kept you waiting, life got busy and it was hard to find the inspiration and motivation I need to write. But look, that chapter has some actual length to it!

**Nancy**

We keep talking until the nurse comes back and sends Alex to class. She says "See ya" before passing the door, and I wave at her. Her smile hurts me in a peculiar way. I don't say "See you" back. There won't be a later or a next time. This is all I will get, and I know it. I'm simply happy we talked.

The circumstances were unusual, and therefore something unusual happened. Tomorrow, everything will be back to normal. It's as simple as that.

Routine is good.

**§**

Around an hour later, the nurse is checking on me when the sound of someone knocking on the door interrupts him. My heart misses a beat. I push the hope away so it won't hurt when it crumbles down.

"Come in!" He shouts, and two students enter the room. Alex is not one of them. The small hope I had dies, and I dutifully bury its remains in a place of my mind far, far away from consciousness.

"Nancy Drew, are you okay?" Asks Sasha as he comes to sit on the end of the bed.

"Hey", says Elliot more softly. I smile to both of them.

"Can we stay for a bit?" Sasha asks the nurse.

He nods. "Yeah, just don't be loud, I've got paperwork to do."

We all swear we won't, and he leaves us to go next door, where his actual office is.

"She didn't give you a concussion, did she?" Sasha immediately asks, frowning. I can hear the anger in his voice, and Elliot must hear it, too, because he cringes.

I want to cringe, too, in a way. I smile. "No, everything is fine. How do you know what happened?"

Sasha opens his mouth, but Elliot answers before him. "Alex sent me a text. I told Sash' as soon as I could."

"Ibrahim wanted to come with us, but he's got practice", Sasha adds. "He'll text you later. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, don't worry."

"Did you call your dad?"

I look away.

"Nancy Drew, you call your dad right now."

"Sash', listen, it's nothing. I'll tell him when I get home", I reason him. It doesn't seem to work, though, because he grabs my cellphone on the night stand and hands it to me without a word. I take it, if only to prevent him from calling himself, and shake my head. "I don't want to make him worry. Besides, he's probably painting, he wouldn't hear a bomb exploding in the same room." Sasha huffs and rolls his eyes, though he doesn't insist. I thank him, then turns towards Elliot. Judging by his expression, he seems to find the situation quite amusing.

"By the way, Elliot, thank you for coming. We barely know each other, you didn't have to." At the mention of his name, I can see Sasha twisting his neck to look at Elliot. He's so obvious it hurts.

Elliot smiles and shrugs, his hands in his pockets as if he didn't know what to do with them. "Nah, don't thank me, you're a friend of Sash', plus I had to make sure he wouldn't punch Alex if she was still here."

I chuckle and Sasha gives an obviously forced laugh, rolling his eyes again.

"Oh, about Alex", Elliot starts, looking a bit hesitant, "do you mind if I give her your number?"

It takes me a moment to fully comprehend the meaning of what Elliot just said. When I do, I can only stare at him dumbfounded, my fingers tickling slightly. Quickly, before my hopes raise again, I manage to blurt : "What for?"

If any of the boys notice my confusion, none of them shows it. "She wanted to check on you after class, make sure everything's fine. She's feeling really guilty, y'know?"

"I sure damn hope so", Sasha grumbles. I don't hear him. The tickling has become a wind of warmth, and it's blowing in my stomach, and it's painting on my face in the shape of a radiant smile I have trouble keeping hold on.

Maybe there is going to be a next time, after all.

Elliot's voice brings me back to earth. "So, Nancy? Do I have your authorization?" He asks, his phone already in his hand.

I want to stifle this warm feeling, keep my hopes down, ready myself for Alex to not contact me, for Alex to not spare me a single look tomorrow, ready myself to get back to my routine-

"Y- Yes, yeah, of course."

But I can't.

"Sweet!" He says as Sasha whips his head to send me a bewildered look.

"What?!"

I hold my friend's gaze and smile. "I don't have a reason to refuse, do I?"

"She's only doing this so she won't feel guilty anymore! She doesn't care about you!"

I flinch.

"I know that", I say. And it's the truth. But I'm a selfish person, and if using Alex's guilt allowed me to talk to her earlier, and if there's a chance it might happen again, then I'm definitely not letting it fly away. This crush of mine is silly, hopeless, painful - but I will not let it plague me with regrets. When time makes it fade away, when my years as a teenager come to an end, I want to at least be able to think : _I tried_.

I don't tell Sasha that, of course. I let him take what little I gave him and use it to build his own truth. Nothing new : humans do this all the time.

Elliot doesn't say anything, but his stare is heavy on Sasha. He looks… defeated, sad. I wonder if Sasha has told him the reason behind his being so bitter towards Alex and her friends. I don't think he has. Otherwise Elliot would probably have done something to make him change his mind.

The awkwardness grows heavier as the silence stretches longer. After maybe a minute, Elliot gives up and sighs.

"I… should go to the stadium. Cheer practice. Y'know", he says, rubbing his neck shyly.

Sasha looks up at that, looking startled. "Oh, yeah, right, you- you probably should."

They are both blushing now, and I avert my eyes. They like each other. Elliot is going to ask Sasha out. They are going to date. Hold hands. Kiss. Go to prom together.

I want to feel happy for them - and I do, in a way. I just wish the envy wasn't here too.

* * *

**Alex**

"Hey, everybody look, Alex's in love!"

"New boyfriend, Alex?"

"What?"

"Just look at your face, girl!"

"Yeah, don't play dumb, it's written on your face!"

"Who is it?"

"No one! I was just texting Elliot!"

"Isn't he gay?"

"You made'im straight, Alex?"

"Wooooo, you really are a killer, hm?"

"What the _fuck_? That's not how it works! And I don't have a fucking boyfriend, so fuck off."

"Yeah, right, 'cause that's the attitude of someone that's got nothing to hide…"

"Can't fool us, girl!"

"Why don't you all just shut up?"

"Okay, okay."

"Geez, no need to get so riled up."

"Jess-"

"I'm shutting up, I'm shutting up..."

* * *

**Nancy**

The way back home is long and strange. I cannot get rid of the impression that everything was a dream. That this is a dream.

It's the first time in months that I walk home. The nurse made me swear I wouldn't ride my bike. He made me swear on whatever you want, I don't care as long as you do it. I think most people would have sworn on god or their parents. I swore on myself, in my head.

As I walk, my bike sings to the empty street.

It's earlier than I'm used to when I get home. I guess I had not realized it would be, when I told Sasha to warn Mr Thomas that I would miss Chess Club.

My dad is surprised too. He is dancing on The Doors' Alabama Song and baking a chocolate pie when I knock on the kitchen's open door. He immediately stops smiling when he sees me and, before I have the time to say anything, we are hugging. He pets my hair, as he used to when I was a little girl, as he still does when he knows I'm upset, and I inhale the comfort in his scent. I pull back after a moment to reassure my dad and explain, knowing everything is real after all.

**§**

**[From : Unknown Number] Hey it's Alex. How r u?**

**[To : Alex] Hi, it's Nancy. I'm good, thank you.**

**[From : Alex] I know x) U sure?**

**[To : Alex] Yes, thank you. How are you?**

**[From : Alex] Good n eatin chocolate**

**[From : Alex] And stop thkin me èwé**

**[From : Alex] What r u doin?**

**[To : Alex] My homework, and you?**

**[From : Alex] Srsly? U missed class**

**[From : Alex] Texting u**

**[To : Alex] I have to catch up on the others.**

**[From : Alex] U're ahead of the others**

**[To : Alex] Then I have to keep being ahead of the others.**

**[From : Alex] No u don't, just chill!**

**[To : Alex] You're right, but I want to.**

**[From : Alex] Why? o_ô**

**[To : Alex] To get a degree in the field I want to have a degree in.**

**[From : Alex] Which is?**

**[To : Alex] Aerospace Engineering, ideally.**

**[From : Alex] (O A o)**

**[To : Alex] What about you?**

**[From : Alex] THAT'S SO FREAKIN COOL**

**[From : Alex] Dunno**

**[From : Alex] Prob a college not far**

**[To : Alex] You don't have anything you would like to study?**

**[From : Alex] Nop**

**[To : Alex] Are you sure? What about sports?**

**[From : Alex] That's not smth u study**

**[To : Alex] I'm pretty sure it can be. You're good in biology, too, right?**

**[From : Alex] Yea dunno how XD**

**[To : Alex] Do you like it?**

**[From : Alex] It's interesting**

**[From : Alex] and I get good grades**

**[To : Alex] Was that a yes?**

**[From : Alex] Yes**

**[From : Alex] U have any sibling?**

**[To : Alex] No, and you?**

**[From : Alex] Yea but she doesn't live here**

**[To : Alex] Do you miss her?**

**[From : Alex] Sometimes**

**[From : Alex] My dad mor than me**

**[From : Alex] Do u live w/ ur 2 parents ?**

**[To : Alex] Yes, and you?**

**[From : Alex] Yea but theyre not 2gthr anymore**

**[To : Alex] How does this work?**

**[From : Alex] It doesn't**

**[From : Alex] What do u do when u're bored?**

**[To : Alex] I study or I read. What about you?**

**[From : Alex] Phone, computer or work out. What do u like to read?**

**[To : Alex] I like every kind of books, but more Science-Fiction.**

**[From : Alex] Like Star Wars?**

**[To : Alex] Exactly. Do you like reading?**

**[From : Alex] Sometimes**

**[From : Alex] Don't u watch ur jap cartoons when u're bored?**

**[To : Alex] Yes, sometimes. (They're called animes)**

**[From : Alex] Why R they called that?**

**[To : Alex] I think it comes from "animation".**

**[From : Alex] I thought it was an eng word**

**[To : Alex] Yes, Japanese is full of English words.**

**[From : Alex] Weird**

**[To : Alex] It's Japanese, of course it's weird.**

**[From : Alex] XD**

**[From : Alex] Have to go sry :/**

**[To : Alex] It's okay, bye.**

**[From : Alex] See u tomorrow! :D**

**[To : Alex] See you!**

**§**

I'm laying on my bed and staring at the ceiling, contemplating not the blue paint but the weight of my cellphone in my hand. My stomach is buzzing, expanding, laughing.

I lift my phone up above my head and I stare at the screen. At the words. At her name. I feel light, as a feather.

Love's light wings, I think, and I chuckle. How naive am I, really? It's only a few texts. Sixty six texts.

My fingers hover above the screen, slightly shaking. Tickling.

I take a deep breath and start taping a new text.

**[To : Alex] Good night.**

I spend the rest of my evening checking my phone every minute, unable to read a single page.

The answer never comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter, please let me know! Even one word of approval would make me smile.
> 
> If you didn't like this chapter, please tell me why! There's always place for improvement.
> 
> NB: I don't know much about school in the US, so if something's wrong or weird, feel free to say so too.
> 
> Stay amazing and see you next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Alex's friends and the Best Bus Ride Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter is the longest so far.
> 
> I'm very very sorry about the lack of updates. Stuff happened, and it kind of resulted in some sort of a writer's block.  
> Fortunately, I'm on break now and for 2 whole months, so I'll (hopefully) have more time to write!
> 
> By the way, I posted a li'l one shot called How to Stop Stalking, so if you'd wanna check it out, it would make me very happy.  
> Enjoy!

**Nancy**

I wake up to the sound of soft music dancing with rays of yellow light. As I inhale the morning air, I brace myself for routine.

**§**

I take a burning sip of my coffee and smile, peaceful as every morning. And then I shriek because my cellphone rings.

It's short. Two short whistles. _A text_ , I think.

My heart springs. I take a sharp breath.

**[From : Alex] Good morning!**

Another couple of whistles.

**[From : Alex] Sry didn't see ur text last night, my phone died**

I let myself marvel in the thought that there could be something other than concern motivating her. I let all the hopes, all the attraction I feel toward her rise, rise, and rise until I can feel my cheeks hurting from a smile, and my fingers shaking, and electricity buzzing in my stomach. I let myself be crushed.  
Then I take a deep breath, and shut everything away.

My fingers are not shaking as I tap an answer.

**[To : Alex] Good morning!**

I don't need more than that to feel alive.

* * *

**Alex**

I smile at my phone, at the two words shining on the screen, then put it back in my pocket.

There's something funny in the air today. Something electric and unusual. Light, almost imperceptible - but it's there.

When the music starts in my ears, I can feel it even better.

It's nice. Not really calming - pretty much the opposite actually - but nice. Like something good's gonna happen.

**§**

We're arguing on whether our team's got the chance to win the upcoming game when I see Nancy. She's putting her bus card back in her wallet, her glasses crooked and patched with tape but steady on her nose, wearing dark purple pants that show her ankles and a white blouse. It's probably the state of her glasses, but she looks a bit different today. Or maybe it's because I've never seen her in the bus. I heard once that how you see a person can change depending on the setting.

She hasn't seen me yet. Should I wave at her? Call her? Get up and walk to her? Invite her to sit in the back with us?

I don't think my friends would appreciate that. Hell, I don't even think _Nancy_ would appreciate that.

I mean, my friends aren't bullies. They gossip, yeah, and they tend to judge people very quickly, but they're not, like, _mean_. They let people their chance to surprise them, and if they do, they'll question their judgement and become curious. That's what happened with Elliot, and now he's a full member of our circle.

This isn't helping me.

What do I do?

Okay, first, I have to stop staring at her or we'll lock eyes and-

Soft earth suddenly makes my heart skip a beat. Her eyes are darker than yesterday. She's further than yesterday and I can't read her expression at all.

I don't think I can move, either. At least not my body - my lips, on the contrary, seem very eager to smile. I'm grateful for that because as soon as their corners lift, Nancy's face shifts. It softens and gains colors, shades I'm not really able to decipher but know I like better than the blank mask she was wearing.

She walks towards me - us - with a shy smile and a lack of hesitation I can't help but find kinda _cool_. Like she's afraid of nothing. I remember what she said about stepping out of her comfort zone, and I wonder if that's what she's doing right now. If she's feeling alive right now.

I sure am.

Feeling alive, I mean.

I should probably get up, but the shine in these eyes won't let me.

* * *

**Nancy**

Angry butterflies are swarming in my stomach.

I have nothing to lose.

* * *

**Alex**

What am I supposed to do? She's only a few feet away and I still don't know how I'm supposed to introduce her. Are we classmates? Friends? Acquaintances? Amina and Jess are in our class, so they know her from sight, but I don't think that's gonna help.

Nancy's still walking.

I shoot a glance at my friends to make sure they haven't noticed her yet. Amina and Jess are still arguing, and Carla's texting, but Gabi is frowning and looking directly at Nancy.

_Shit._

Okay, I've got this.

Nancy's arrived at talking range when I wave at her.

"Hey!" I say cheerfully, "How're you doing?"

My friends stop talking. She waves back, still smiling. "I'm fine, thanks, and you?"

"I'm good!" I answer, then get up and point at each of my friends. "Nancy, this is Amina, Jess, Gabi and Carla…" I make a gesture towards her. "And, girls, this is Nancy."

I'm expecting someone to express some sort of disapproval, but they all grate Nancy with a somewhat sincere smile. Amina even adds a friendly "Hi!" to go with it.

"Nice to meet you all", Nancy replies, and I wonder if my friends hear the simple honesty she puts in these words.

"Okay, girls", I tell them, casual because I have no reason not to be, "I'm gonna sit with Nancy over there-"

She interrupts me. "No, No, it's okay, I just wanted to say hi. Don't mind me."

I frown. I didn't think she'd turn me down. "But there's no spare seat in the back for you…" I start again, scratching my neck awkwardly. "I mean, it's fine if you don't want to, but I was thinkin' we could talk."

Her eyes widens slightly. She avoids my gaze, looking sideway at my friends instead. "What about your friends-" A mocking voice cuts her off.

"Don't worry 'bout that", Gabi says, sounding like she couldn't care less, "we see her every single day." And I would hug her if I wasn't sure she'd slit my throat if I dared.

I grab my bag instead and point at a pair of free seats some rows ahead, catching Nancy's eyes with a smug smile. "C'm'on, let's sit!"

"Okay", she answers as I begin walking down the bus, her smile singing a bashful waltz to my cheerful steps.

I take the seat closer to the window and put my bag between my feet, and she does the same with hers. She's wearing dark blue converses, one of them pressed against my right shoe because of how little space our bags leave for our feet. The sight's weirdly interesting, though I'm not sure why. I quickly raise my gaze to her face and ask, curious : "So, why the bus?"

I watch her put a lock of ocean-like hair behind her ear, her hand paler against the dark waves, and wait for her eyes to look up to meet mine. "My dad wouldn't let me ride my bike after what happened yesterday, he was too scared I would fall", she answers, with an amused but fond smile that makes something move in my chest.

"Really? Why?"

She shrugs. "I don't know, probably because of my glasses. He always worries too much."

I wince. "Yeah, about that, how much do I owe you?"

"What? No, it's okay, I told you, you don't have to give me anything!" She says, waving her hand to stress her words. I shake my head and cross my arms, smiling despite myself.

"How can I make it up to you, then?"

Another shrug. "You don't have to."

"Not an answer", I say, echoing the words she said yesterday with a smirk.

She doesn't sound really amused when she reminds me that I'm already forgiven.

I shake my head again. "Still not an answer." She rolls her eyes in false annoyance, a smile finding its way back on her lips. It lacks something. "C'mon Nancy," I insist, not ready to give up yet, "let me-" Suddenly the words are stuck somewhere between my heart and lips, and I'm diving into warm earth again. How the fuck does she do that with her eyes? I'm pretty sure looking into someone's eyes shouldn't make me feel all light and flushed. That's what booze do.

She keeps staring, and it's weird but I don't want her to stop.

After what feels like an hour or the time of a blink, she drops her gaze to her hands, which she starts knotting and unknotting together. I let my eyes fall on their hypnotic dance, feeling sorta dazed and heart beating louder than usual. The urge to move, to do something - punch a wall, reach for a hand, break the bus's window, _anything_ \- is screaming in every muscle of my body, and soon my knees start to bounce.

"Talking is enough."

"What?" I ask, startled by the sound of her voice.

"To make it up to me?" She says, and I blink, mind still focusing on her hands instead of her words. "Talking is enough", she repeats, and I raise my eyes to meet hers. When I find her smiling, I shake my head again. I've hit the girl in the head, broken her glasses, and all she wants me to do is _talk_? How is her smile so dazzling? Is she out of her mind? And why am I blushing?

"You're weird, y'know that?" I say, hoping to regain a composure but sounding bewildered instead. She shrugs like it's no big deal. When she actually answers, though, there's an odd weight to her voice.

"So they say."

I want to ask who _they_ are, but choose to focus on lightening the mood instead. "No wonder y'like japanese stuff so much then." She chuckles, and I feel warmth and pride straightening my shoulders.

The atmosphere is kinda weird after that, our silent quest for a new topic almost audible in the relative silence of the bus. Thankfully, it doesn't last, and Nancy quickly fills the awkward gap with an easy-going question: "What's your favorite band?"

"Fall Out Boy", I answer without missing a beat. "Yours?"

She hums softly, taking time to think about it, her face a weirdly cute mixture of frowns and smiles. "Hm… I'd say Bronski Beat at the moment, but… The Doors and Madness are really close behind."

I raise an eyebrow at the third name she gives. Pretty sure it's the first time I hear that noun alone as a band name. "What's Madness?"

"Oh, you've never heard of it?"

"Nope."

"They're really good! They play ska, they were quite famous in the 80's", she says excitedly, eyes full of stars, making something squeeze in my chest.

"I'll check it out", I say with a smile, and even though I never really mean those words, this time I know I probably do. "What's your favorite song?"

She makes a face. "That's a very cruel question."

"Yeah, sorry", I laugh, "couldn't choose either. It all depends on the time and place, y'know?"

"Yes! And there are songs that have stupid lyrics but good music, or the contrary", she says, and I nod.

"Hm-hm, or some songs it's just for emotional reasons."

She smiles knowingly at that, eyes soft and brown. "Memories."

I hum, looking away as the feeling from earlier returns, weird and electric. It's not unpleasant, but… I don't know.

We keep chatting until the bus reaches our school. We don't wander into personal or particularly deep topics like yesterday, but there's a bit of that intimate atmosphere we had draped over us in the nurse's office. I glance at her a lot, and almost every time I catch her glancing back. Our eyes meet then blink apart, our eyes lock then run away. It's like an improvised choreography.

There are bubbles popping in my chest.

* * *

**Nancy**

Today is a strange day.

When I walked toward Alex this morning in the bus, all I was hoping for was a hello. Maybe a smile if I was lucky.

What I got was a seat next to her and a whole ride listening to the sound of her voice, my eyes irresistibly drawn to her. She glanced at me several times, too. I was feeling bold and warm, so after a minute or two I purposefully hold her gaze. I don't remember who gave up first, but I know we did it again. Our eyes were magnets, pulled together then pushed apart, only to meet again the next second.

I feel my fingers tickle only thinking about it.

When the bus stopped in front of our school, Alex groaned and we got up and off the bus without talking. "Thank you," I said when we were waiting for her friends.

"For what?" She asked with a smile that I returned automatically.

"This was by far the best bus ride I've ever experienced."

My hands were sweating and I could feel the blood rising up my neck, but it was worth it. I made Alex blush. She raised a hand to scratch at her neck and her eyes avoided mine, but her smile only brightened. The butterflies in my stomach were doing aerobatics with fireflies. I hadn't expected her to react that well.

"You know, I think that you thank me way too often for a girl I hit in the face with a ball," she told me then, grinning. I chuckled, if only not to spill that I was grateful for what had happened yesterday. We wouldn't be talking if it hadn't, after all. "But that bus ride's on my top five too."

My heart stuttered when my gaze found hers.

Her friends came out of the bus before I got the chance to say anything more, which was probably for the best, and the taller one - Jess - immediately hooked her arm with Alex's. She shot me a hostile look but didn't make any comment, instead asking Amina if she had done the English homework. I walked with them until I had to take a different hall. Alex told me she would see me later and I nodded then turned away, hurrying before I started to be late.

**§**

I still have troubles believing it actually happened. Every class I've had this morning has passed as usual, and with each one of them this morning's events are looking more and more surreal.

When lunch break comes, I pack my schoolbooks and take my usual détour to the cafeteria without really thinking about it. I dutifully ignore the shoulder bumping into mine and the snickers that follow it as I look for a familiar glimpse of blond hair in the crowd. As usual, it doesn't take long before I notice her. She's talking with one of the cheerleaders that was in the bus this morning, the one with her hair ends dyed blue. I think Alex called her Gabi, but I'm not sure.

I don't stop walking as I stare discreetly at my crush, smiling for myself. It feels good to have a name I can put on these feelings. I guess I've known what it was for a while now, but I had never admitted it before yesterday. It feels liberating, like the first breath of fresh air when I come out of my house in the morning.

"Hey, Nancy!" says Alex's voice all of a sudden. I stop walking and turn around, fluttery wings waking up in my stomach. Alex is walking toward me with a sunny smile, Gabi trailing behind her. Maybe that bus ride _did_ happen, after all.

"Hey, Alex, Gabi," I say with a smile I couldn't hold back if I wanted to, "How did your morning go?"

"Yo," Gabi answers simply, and I can't help but notice how small she looks next to Alex's 170 centimeters. I'm only 165 myself, but I think she doesn't exceed 160. The look she's sending me is not menacing like Jess's was earlier this morning, but it's not friendly either. _Cold_ seems like the perfect adjective, but I might be biased by the icy blue of her irises.

"Boring, except for that dissection in Bio. I had no idea the insides of a frog could be so interesting." She grins at that and I chuckle, wondering if she told me that because of the texts we exchanged yesterday evening. "What about you? Did anything interesting?"

"Well, I expended my German vocabulary and analyzed Plato's definition of poetry, so yes, I did," I answer, making Alex snort and Gabi raise an eyebrow. "Are you two... heading to the cafeteria?"

"Yeah, we're meeting the others here," Alex says and we start walking again. "I guess you're too?"

I nod. "Sasha and Ibrahim are probably already there."

"Hm, Nancy? about Sasha…" Alex hesitates, so I meet her eyes to tell her to keep going. "Hm, do you know Elliot well?"

Oh, I think I know where this is heading. "Only a bit... Hm, is it true that he's going to ask Sasha out?"

"Would be about damn time!" Gabi mocks.

"He's been dying to for _months_ now, but he's too scared," Alex says after letting a short laugh out. "He doesn't want to ruin their friendship." Gabi rolls her eyes, but I just smile.

"I can understand that."

"Yeah?"

"Y- Yeah," I nod. "But, hm, what was that about Sasha?"

"Oh, right- I just want to make sure Elliot's not gonna end up heartbroken again." There's a sad smile curving up her lips, and it makes my heart squeeze. I shake my head.

"Don't tell anyone, but Sasha's had a crush on Elliot for two years now", I tell Alex with a reassuring smile.

It makes Gabi laugh short and loud. "Talk about morons! They already act like a couple!"

Alex laughs and I stare at her as she does so, recording the bubbling song of her laughter in my mind. "They're perfect for each other," I say once she's done laughing.

Alex nods, then adds that she's sure they are going to be one of those dumb couples that can't be seen apart from each other. Gabi makes a disgusted noise in agreement and I chuckle, glancing at Alex's joyful face. She's so beautiful and friendly, and so popular… Why she would waste her time with someone such as myself is beyond my understanding. Perhaps it is not for her, though. Perhaps… perhaps she really sees something in me, something obvious and interesting that I can't grasp but is there, in me, and worthy of Alex's time.

I enter the cafeteria and wave goodbye to Alex and her friend, wishing them a good afternoon.

It's a nice thought, one that deserves to be pondered about more thoroughly - but not right now. Now is the time to eat and chat with friends.

But it's a nice thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!  
> Please consider leaving a review telling me whether you liked it or not! It doesn't matter the length of it, and it would really make my day. 
> 
> Please forgive me for how late this update is, and I wish you all an amazing day.
> 
> See you (hopefully) soon!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter, where gays get their happy beginnings and the author tries to do justice to the rest of the story.  
> TW for mention of past deaths of family members, and football.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! I did not disappear.
> 
> This story has been sitting unfinished for far too long (nearly two years), but now it's finally getting closure. What an emotional moment. As much as I don't feel like the first 6 chapters of Alex and Nancy's story reflect who I am as a writer anymore, the fact that it represents who I was is more than enough to deserve an ending.  
> A thousand thanks to everyone's who's ever left kudos, bookmarked and/or commented on this story - you are a huge part of the reasons for this chapter, if not all of them. Special thanks to the user CuddlyFangirl for getting me to start, and autumnava for keeping me going.
> 
> This is a long one, because I needed to finish this story in one chapter if I ever wanted to finish it at all. I hope you'll like it.

## Alex

Elliot is an idiot.

I don’t care how good his grades are or that he knows the names and locations of every country in the world, and I don’t care that every time I so much as _think_ about Nancy it’s like I stuck my fingers in a plug like some kind of airhead baby, because he. Is. An. _Idiot_.

It’s been a week since I got the confirmation that Sasha likes him back, a week since I’ve told him as much, but the dumbass still hasn’t made a move. It’s painstakingly obvious that it’s the one thing he’s dying to do, but _no._ The boy. Is. Too. Stupid.

He’s ruined the formation _three times_ last practice. He hadn’t ruined a formation since last year when he was still learning the ropes. And I don’t care that I almost elbowed Carla in the face last time because I was too busy keeping my brain out of the choreography, because this is _not_ about _me_.

There is no practice tonight, and that means Elliot’s going to hang out with Sasha. They always do, whenever the both of them are free after class. As Gabi says: they already act like a fucking couple. No one is oblivious enough but the both of them to miss it. I’m so mad - and not because despite having spent an increasing amount of time with Nancy, I’m still so bad at deciphering the confusing signals she’s sending, but because all this unnecessary stalling is making my best friend fucking _miserable_ . He _knows_ Sasha likes him back, for Christ’s sake!

Which is why I’ve made a decision: as of today, I will not stay an exasperated bystander. I will take action. I will make things move. For the sole purpose of planning, Nancy and I have been exchanging a lot of texts in the past twenty-four hours.

I needed an associate, and she knows Sasha well. Plus she’s hella smart.

I’ve already re-read our thread five times today but who cares? We’re friends. I don’t have to justify myself to anyone.

I just want to help my friend get together with the boy of his dreams. It has _nothing_ to do with me.

 

*****

 

**[From: Me] target spotted, keep u updatd**

**[From: Nancy] Roger that, Captain! Target locked on my end as well.**

**[From: Nancy] Operation Fools In Love is a go!**

For all I’m trying to be sneaky, that last text has me snorting. She is such a dork.

I pocket the phone after making sure it’s on vibrate, and call after Elliot. It doesn’t take him long to spot me, waving from a five-meter distance as I am.

“Wow, if this isn’t Lex! Got some time for your old friends today?”

“Hey, Billy Elliot. You know I always do. What’s up?”

“Not so much since you’ve been seeing this Nancy girl, you don’t,” he says with a sneaky grin, and I fight the urge to kick his shin. “Just headin’ to the library. Sash has a geography test on Monday so I’m going to help him study.”

“Of course you are.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” I say, grinning; he pretends to slap my shoulder. I pretend not to notice. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?” he asks, eyebrows raised into suspicion. I huff.

“Don’t give me that look. It’s about practice.”

“Ah,” he says, and I can see he feels guilty. It’s not a good look on him.

“It’s nothing bad, I just wanna talk about it,” I say, trying to sound convincing. “Come with me? It won’t take long.”

He sighs, and nods. “Yeah, alright. Let me just text Sash to tell him I’m gonna be a little late.”

**[From: Alex] phase 1 executed, target unsuspicious. movin 2ward lawn!**

**[From: Nancy] Roger. Target successfully secured here as well. Ready to engage phase 2.**

**[From: Alex] engagin phase 2 now! wait my txt be4 phase 3**

**[From: Nancy] Got it.**

We make small talk until we get to the lawn behind the gym, and then we sit. Right next to the spot where students go to smoke during lunch break, where no one will be able to see or overhear unless they’re actually trying to - but not close enough that we’re sitting on dirty butts. On my left Elliot is rubbing his neck in tense silence, eye-rings visible even under the concealer he put on, fingers toying with the handle of his bag; his nerves are starting to get to me. He clears his throat.

“So, you wanted to talk.”

“Right, sorry - you screwed up three times during practice last time, six if I count the times you caught up before the whole formation could collapse. That’s more than you ever did in a year.”

“I know,” he sighs, and I swear I can see him deflate before my eyes. He leans back against the gym’s wall. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” I say, giving a little squeeze to his shoulder. He doesn’t look convinced. I roll my eyes, not sure if I should be more irritated or amused. “I’m not the coach, Ellie, I didn’t bring you here to scold you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

He smiles, but it’s a little thin. “I’m fine, Lex, just- got some stuff on my mind is all.”

I ruffle his hair. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His smile is slightly more convincing this time. He still tries to dodge the question, though.

“Ellie, you got freakin’ suitcases hanging from your eyes. And you’ve been on edge for days.”

“So what? I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Ellie, I love you, but that’s bullshit.”

He says nothing, so I drop an arm across his shoulders and pull him closer. He’s not shorter than me by much but that way he almost feels like a kid, a younger brother playing stubborn. I wait until some of the tension’s gone, then:

“So? What’s the deal?”

“I don’t know,” he says, sighing again, then groaning. He can be so childish sometimes. “I guess I’ve just been a little on edge lately because I can’t figure out what to do about Sasha. He’s just so _frustrating_ sometimes! I wish he’d stop making everything so - so _complicated_.” I open my mouth to say something but he immediately cuts me off, elbowing me jokingly in the ribs. “Don’t you dare make fun of me.”

“I would never.”

“You’d better not, unless you want me to start asking some questions myself - especially not about your new friend Nancy.”

I tense and immediately relax, trying not to let anything away, but I’m pretty sure Ellie’s not fooled. Somehow he never is.

Better reer the conversation back to its original topic.

“You do know that the kid likes you back, right?”

“I… Yeah. I wasn’t sure at first, after you told me, but I tried paying more attention, and - yeah. You were right.”

“You’re blushing,” I point out. “Cute.”

“Shut up,” he grunts, pushing away from me and trying very hard to look angry while fighting off a smile. “Point is, I still don’t know what to do.”

“Seems quite obvious to me -”

“But what if I rush him? He’s never dated anyone before, and I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. What if he doesn’t believe me, or doesn’t want to date me in the end?”

Excuse me?

“ _That’s_ what’s been fucking you over this whole time?” I blurt, dumbfounded. It earns me a vexed glare, and I guess it’s fair, but _still_.

It’s so _stupid._

“You don’t know him like I do.”

“True, but don’t you think this is all a bit stupid? I mean, how could you ever find out all this if you don’t ask him out first? There’s no point in wacking your head on this when you could just _find out_.”

It’s Elliot’s time not to believe his ears, and he stares at me for a good second before any sound starts coming out his lips. “That, uh. That kind of makes sense, actually.”

“Is that so surprising?” I tease him.

“Only a little bit,” he says, the little shit, and gets up. “Guess I’d better go ask him out then. He looks down to me then, tense smile stretching his lips. “Unless there was something else you wanted to discuss?”

I wave a hand at him. “Nah, dumbass. Go find your boy.”

“Thanks,” he says, and leaves, a nervous jump to his strides. I get up and watch him go, wiping the grass and cigarette ash off of my ass. When I’m sure my butt has been cleaned of any kind of dirt, I text Nancy.

**[From: Me] phase 2 over, ellies on his way to u**

I’m barely putting my phone back in my pocket that it’s already buzzing with Nancy’s answer.

**[From: Nancy] Leaving Sasha now! Phase 3 is ready to begin.**

Phase 3 of Operation Fools In Love does not involve any exterior influence. They’re all on their own now. Hopefully all goes well.

**[From: Nancy] Meet you at the gates?**

I type my answer and grab my bag, leaving the small patch of grass. Yeah, I really hope everything’ll go well for them.

**[From: Me] omw!**

Somehow though, I don’t doubt it will.

 

* * *

##  **Nancy**

Sasha startles when I tell him that I have to go.

“Now?” he blurts, and he kind of looks like a deer standing frozen in the light. Not the best survival tactic.

“Well… I doubt confessing your long-fostered love to Elliot should involve a bystander…?” He opens and closes his mouth, not unlike goldfish do, then slumps back on his chair and huffs. He looks like a small kid about to start sulking.

“I _guess_.”

Or one who doesn’t want to admit he’s still afraid of the dark.

I walk around the table and put a hand on his head. He half-drops his guard, and in his posture I see concern, nerves, anxiety... but also, maybe, a bit of hope. “Hey, you know he likes you back, right?”

“Do I really,” he sighs, and it is not a question.

I hear how tired he is, of pretending; pretending not to care, pretending not to want more, pretending not to crave more than the friendly touches - or perhaps it is simply my own interiority I am seeing, projected upon the frame of my friend’s. I do that.

“You won’t really know until you ask him, I’m pretty sure that’s the rule. Waiting won’t bring you any answer.”

He sighs again, more loudly this time. “I wish I were a telepath. Things would be so much simpler this way.”

I give his head another pat. “But incredibly more boring.”

“True.”

My phone buzzes, and I know who it is before I even look at the screen. I’m swinging my bag over my shoulder as I type an answer; when I look up, Sasha is gazing at me with odd eyes. “I have to go, but I’ll be at the other end of the line, alright? Although I doubt you will need me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

He still doesn’t sound convinced. I frown.

“Sasha. Elliot is your friend. Regardless of whether he likes you romantically, it doesn’t change the fact that he loves you. And I know you know that, but not every popular kid is rotten from the inside - you wouldn’t be friend with Elliot if he was. So stop looking for them in him.”

Although there is a second during which I regret bringing it up in the manner I did, when Sasha finally relaxes I know I said the right thing.

“Okay,” he says, then nods.

He gives me a little smile. I wish I could take all of his fear away, but I know it is not mine to do. I wish him good luck instead, and pat his head one last time. When I start telling him how brave I think he is and just how proud I am, though, he gratefully tells me to fuck off.

 

*****

 

When I get to the gates, Alex is already there waiting, propped against the wall and looking up, at the foliage of the poplar and the great skies beyond. Her beauty seems to increase every time I see her. Her hair, under the afternoon sun, sparkles like a second sun. She doesn’t usually let it loose, but for some reason today she did, and it draws way too much of my attention to the build of her shoulders and arms. I’m pretty sure she could carry me on her back all day without breaking a sweat if she wanted to.

“Hi,” I call out when I’m close enough, “sorry I made you wait.”

“Hey!” she beams at me, and I get the urge to kiss her. “It’s no problem, I just got here. Besides it’s really nice out today,” she adds, looking around. I remember thinking the same thing earlier in History.

“Isn’t it? I’m so glad neither of us has club today. It would have been a waste spending the whole day locked inside.”

“You don’t say! I’ve been dying to go outside the whole day.” She looks away for a second, but it’s so fast I barely register the movement at all. “By the way, do you have anything planned right now? ‘Cause I was thinkin’, we could grab some milkshakes or whatever, and go to the Redhill park... enjoy the sunlight?”

“That sounds lovely,” I answer with a grin, pleasantly surprised by the offer. I can feel my heartbeat speeding up from foolish expectations, but I push them back in the dream box where they belong. Despite this, I know I must be blushing.

Alex grins back and we set off, discussing milkshakes and other much too sweet beverages.

 

*****

 

Redhill park is a great place to jog, ride a bicycle, have a picnic, or otherwise just hang out. It got its name from the way it looks in the fall, I think, and is large enough that you can always find some quiet place away from all the kids. I take Alex to the big magnolia I have often used as a reading haven and we hold each other’s milkshake as we climb up, something that Alex is surprised I’m so good at. So I tell her about my grandmother’s plum tree and how I started climbing it at a young age, back when we visited her often in that small Korean town she has since been buried into.

There are several pictures of me as a little kid, beaming from the branches of this tree, through white blossoms or bright green leaves, red juice all over my face when summer came. My parents were never too fond of taking pictures, but my grandmother took enough for three. She had this big, fancy camera that we had all contributed to buy for her sixty-first birthday, even me with whatever pocket money I had managed to save. She cried when she opened the present, mom told me. They took a picture of her that day.

The day she died, we all sat down on the couch and went through the dozens of photos she had sent us, and every photo of her we had, and every photo that had been taken in her home. It was the only time I saw my mom really cry.

My mother is an only child, so we brought all the pictures home after the funeral. The camera still works; mom takes pictures with it sometimes. It’s her most precious possession, I think. She loved her mother more than she ever showed. Dad thinks she feels as if something of grandma remains, lingering in the old camera and in the mother tongue they shared, this tongue mom never cared to teach me until right after the funeral, when she realized we wouldn’t have any reason to come back here as often now. When she realized perhaps this tongue would become the only thing that would link me back to the country she grew in.

They were really beautiful, the pictures my grandmother took. I often thought they were like  paintings. That they could be in a gallery, perhaps. That my grandmother was an artist. I wasn’t fully aware of what that word truly meant at the time, but to this day I remain certain that she was.

“I miss her,” I say after a time, more to the crown of the tree than to myself, because the breeze is soft and the sun is warm. “I keep forgetting small pieces of her, details, memories. Looking through the pictures helps, but it isn’t the same. I miss the plum tree, too.”

“What was she like?” Alex’s voice is quiet, subdued, gentle. Like the brushing of a leaf. I lean back against the trunk, legs dangling in the air. The sun is soft and the breeze is warm.

“She was always quiet. Whenever she moved or spoke, it was like she was always trying to do as little noise as possible. She was warm and smelled like freshly cut grass and sap, because she was always in the garden - taking pictures and giving care, always so quietly so she could hear the humming of nature. She wasn’t a hugger, but she loved holding my hand and talked to me like an adult, and helped me climb into the plum tree… It’s funny how much her house looked like her, so small and delicate, you could feel the age and life gently flowing within. She had wrinkles and calluses and scars that spoke more about her life than words ever could, though I always loved hearing about the things she’d lived. She wasn’t very good at baking, but whenever dad and I would set to make a cake or a batch of muffins or anything else, she always joined in and laughed, and while it baked we would play dusty old Korean jazz and we would dance, and mom would leave the office upstairs to dance with us in the warm smell of chocolate or plums or vanilla, or whatever it was that we’d put in the cake…”

I feel the floor creaking under our silly dance, I hear the sound of her laughter, I smell the cake baking in the oven, I see the face of my mom as she smiles and says _“I swear I’m the only grown up here”_.

It’s all here in my mind.

I don’t want to lose it.

“Sounds like a pretty great grandma,” Alex says from further up the branch.

I don’t answer right away.

I’ve got a wet lump in my throat.

A breath, two breaths, three; speech comes back to me.

“She was a beautiful person,” I say, sniffing a bit. Alex scoots closer on the branch.

“You okay?”

I take another deep breath, willing my voice to go back to steady. “Yes, sorry. She only died a little more than a year ago, I’m not really used to it yet.”

She says “okay”, and gives a small squeeze to my knee. I don’t know why it moves me like it does, but she leaves her hand there. It feels warm. Funny how easy it can get to talk to her, when it can be the most difficult thing in the world sometimes. Her other hand is on the branch, a firm support some centimeters behind her hip, and slightly to the right. Something in the triangle created by her upper body, her arm and the branch captures my attention - I’m pretty sure it’s a right triangle, but I don’t have a compass to check. Ms Dalon says she’s developed a mental one with time, but I’m pretty sure it’s a joke.

“You know,” Alex starts, and I move my eyes to her face instead. She’s looking at the sky again. “I never knew any of my grandparents - neither of my parents got along with them. But when the last one died - it was my dad’s father, and...  he told my sister and me that he wished we’d at least met him once.”

I shift away from the trunk and closer to her; our shoulders bump. Neither of us moves away. I gingerly raise my arm to circle her shoulders, holding my breath. She inhales, rising, then exhales, deflating. Her right hand leaves the branch to go up and cover mine and my heart skips a beat.

“Do you wish you had?” I’m a little breathless, and it’s hearable. I don’t think Alex notices, though. There is a pause, heavy; and as together we rise and deflate like the tide, our fingers slowly begin to intertwine.

We watch, silent for a while. Then Alex speaks again.

“I don’t know. Maybe I wish I’d known him, even just a little. But on the other hand I know he was a dick, so... Maybe it’s best I didn’t.”

I hum, for lack of anything to say.

We steer away from heavy subjects after that, and it takes my dad calling me on my phone to make me notice just how much time we spent away from the ground. I treasure every second of it.

 

* * *

##  **Alex**

I can’t get yesterday out of my head.

The atmosphere, the scenery, the sunlight. Her hand…

Dammit, I can’t wait to see her today.

But I’m also scared shitless.

I have no idea how to go about this.

I’ve never had to think twice about this before, it’s always been guys, it’s always been easy. It’s always been simple. We like each other, we flirt for a time, then one of us asks the other out. I’ve always been upfront with this. The guys I’ve dated have never been subtle with this.

But she’s… quiet. Shy. Friendly or flirty, I can’t tell.

I hate this ambiguity.

I never thought second-guessing every single interaction I have with someone would ever be a part of my daily life.

I just want to kiss her. And touch her. And hold her. I want to know the taste of her. How can this be simultaneously so simple and so complicated?

I fantasized about her last night. I hadn’t masturbated in a while, and it was relieving, but now that the night’s passed I’m back to feeling just as tense. And conflicted.

I just wish some moments didn’t feel so loaded.

Or so light.

I don’t know what I want, or rather I know too well. It’s what to do I’m unsure about.

 

*****

 

“Same difference.”

I glare at Gabi over her book. She looks impressively unimpressed, as she always does.

“Feelings are rarely univocal,” she continues, “and desires have nuances. Do you want to go out with her or do you want to have sex with her as friends?”

“I don’t knooooow,” I whine. She shoots me a look. Deadpan stare, one eyebrow raised, mocking mouth: it’s the No Bullshit look _._ I can’t compete with that. “...I want to go out with her.”

“Then ask her out.”

“What if -”

She immediately cuts me off. “ _Avec des si, on mettrait Paris en bouteille_.”

“Stop sassing me in French,” I say, pouting.

“Then stop finding excuses for yourself. You’re just scared she’ll say yes.”

“I’m not -” Gabi shoots me another one of her looks, and I know better than to keep going with this. “I’ve never been with a girl before.”

She sighs, closes her book and puts it next to her lunch. “It’s really not that different.”

“It _is_ , though. What if I really just want to be friends? What if I’m confused? What if I gross her out? What if people stare? What if -”

“Putting the cart before the oxes will bring you nowhere, so _slow down_. The only important question you should be asking yourself is whether it’s worth taking the risks or not.”

“It’s _oxen_ ,” I point out.

“English is ridiculous and that’s not my point,” she counters.

“French is ridiculous.”

Gabi tsks, then unwraps her sandwich and bites. “Also not my point,” she says around her lunch. Unable to come up with a better counterpoint to her counterpoint, I settle for dropping my face onto the table and letting out a pitiful groan.

I am so mature.

“Did she die?” Jess asks Gabi as she sits down, closely followed by Carla who, in usual Carla fashion, settles with her butt on the table. Then Amina turns up and sits next to me, the only one to pat my shoulder in empathetic sympathy.

“I wish,” Gabi says, and chatting chaos is quickly unleashed. I have no choice but to participate, if only to steer my mind away from a certain breathtaking girl sitting in a certain immense tree, fingers dancing with me.

 

*****

 

English class is hell, as usual. I spend most of it thinking about our choreography for the upcoming game while pretending not to care whether Nancy would find it impressive. Will she be there? Would she come if I asked? This could be my chance to - or not. There will be hundreds of people there, I can’t just - it’d be way too public, Nancy would be embarrassed for sure, and what if she says no? Then _I_ would be embarrassed. And the football crowd’s… well. They tend not to be the most civilized.

Should I ask her if she’d come? Would it be too obvious? Maybe she’s planned on coming already, maybe I don’t even need to ask her. But she doesn’t really like sports.

Elliot elbows me in the ribs, making me lose my train of thoughts. “What was that for?” I hiss, massaging my ribs and pretending they hurt.

“Your notes are gibberish,” he whispers back, nodding towards my desk. I follow his line of sight and sure enough, I can only read a few words scattered about in a mess of wavy lines and mysterious scribbles. And even these hardly make sense.

“What the hell is _hypotyposis_ supposed to mean?”

Elliot pats my shoulder and shakes his head, barely managing not to laugh. “It means you’re gonna borrow my notes.”

I glance at the sheet he has in front of him, sighing. Elliot’s notes are always flawless. Even the doodles in the margin always complement the lesson perfectly... except today, most of them seem to look suspiciously like hearts; not cute ones, mind you, but stylized versions of real, science-accurate hearts, surrounded by various patterns and symbols only Elliot knows the key to. I turn to raise an eyebrow at him. When he notices me looking, his skin turns 50% redder.

“Called it.”

“Shut up,” he groans, but he’s got a sappy smile all over his face. I grin at him, then attempt to shift my focus to whatever Mr. Oliver is saying. There’s no point, though, and the class ends before I can manage to understand anything worthy of being noted down. I barely wait until we’re out the door to grab Elliot by the arm.

“So?” I urge him.

“So what?” He says, the little shit. As if he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. I nudge him in the stomach - retaliation for earlier.

“ _So_ you got the boy?” I say, wiggling my eyebrows at him. He pushes my face away with his hand, somehow managing to sound exasperated around his big, goofy smile.

“You’re creepy.”

“At least I’m not the one being all sappy and floating in my little bubble of love like you.”

He shoots me a look. “Oh yeah?” he says, smile taking on a mocking edge. “You sure about that?”

“Wh - I don’t! What!” I can only look at him in horror as the words refuse to form, feeling way too much like I’ve just been caught stealing something from the store. Or sneaking some chocolate from the kitchen’s closet. Or borrowing one of my dad’s ties. Except Elliot is not my dad, and he’s looking way too smug right now. “Don’t change the subject, you sneaky bastard.”

“Remind me again who’s the one changing the subject?” He sing-songs, so I poke him in the stomach. “Hey!”

“Stop stalling and tell me how it went!”

“Okay, okay!” He throws his hands up. “But then we _have_ to talk about Nancy. And no fleeing allowed.”

“There’s nothing to say, but sure,” I say, stubborn. Maybe if I deny it enough he’ll just drop the matter. It’s a thin chance, but I’m willing to try it.

We make our way to the GSA room, which is always empty at this time of day, and Elliot tells me everything.

 

*****

 

“Sasha was acting weird - Elliot said he was, I quote, ‘restless’ - so he asked if he wanted to work outside instead - since he didn’t want to confess at school - and Sasha agreed. So they went to the small park on Wilston Street, looked for a good spot, some quiet, and they were sitting down when Sasha said he had to tell Elliot something. Then he confessed. And Elliot said he laughed, because what was the chance, right? He was sure there was no way Sasha would do it. But he did. And then Elliot asked him out, which Sasha had forgotten to do after he’d confessed, and - as you already know - he said yes. And then they kissed! The End.”

“Or the Beginning,” Nancy says, fond and smiling. I grin back.

“Maybe more of a continuation, but it sure will be nice not to have to suffer through their pining every hour of the day.”

“Very true,” she says, laughing.

I don’t tell her about the other conversation I had with Elliot, the one he refused to give up on until I’d spilt my guts to him and he was looking at me with a fairly equal amount of both understanding and exasperation. It appears, according to him, that I am _the_ most oblivious human being he’s ever seen (as if he could talk). He told me that if he’d been able to ask his own idiot out, then so should I.

I wish it were that easy.

 _‘Do as I say, not as I do,’_ mom always says. It’s so much easier to preach something than to actually apply what you preach to your own life. My hands are sweating, for fuck’s sake. It is ridiculous - but also completely out of my control.

“So, by the way… Are you going to the game?” I try and ask as naturally as I can.

“Of course,” she says, matter-of-fact, after taking a sip of her juice. “I always do.”

Well, that was easy.

“Really? I thought you didn’t like sports?”

“Uh, I… enjoy watching?” She is smiling, neither gentle nor amused but shy, and the way she avoids my eyes makes her look almost guilty. I have no idea what to make of that.

“You say that like it’s a dirty secret, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same for everyone, you know.”

She snorts, and leans back into her chair. Somehow my poor attempt at a joke kind of worked. “Are you implying that I’m an _everyone_ , Alex Wallen?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you implying you aren’t, Nancy Campbell-Park?”

“Well, it depends of the scale,” she says with a shining smile, and takes another sip of her juice. “If you’re talking large scale, then sure. But I’d hope I’m not an everyone to _you_ \- not anymore.”

“You weren’t.” The words are out before I can think. “I mean, hm, before I hit you in PE. I knew who you were, even if you didn’t -”

“I knew who you were too, Alex, everyone at school knows your name.” It’s said with ease and a humorous eye roll, but something in it sounds strained. “But what’s in a name, right? I’m glad I got - or I should say, I’m glad I’m getting to know the woman behind yours.”

Uh.

Is it the use of _woman_? It feels like I just got punched in the stomach.

“Th - thanks. It, uhm, it means a lot coming from you.” I’m smiling way too hard, but I don’t really care. I kinda want to run a marathon right now. “I’m glad I’m getting to know you too.”

She smiles. “You know, the circumstances were far from ideal, but I’d been wanting to talk to you for quite a while, when you threw that ball at me.”

“I’m so sorry about that... I swear it wasn’t intentional, even if I’m enjoying the results in the end.”

“It… was not great, as far as approaches go - but I’m really glad it happened, too.”

We share a cheeky smile. She’s the first to break eye contact, and I swear her cheeks are pinker than usual - or is it just wishful thinking? I’m dying to do something, anything, to try and make her blush darker. Something like - but no, no, this is neither the time nor the place. Elliot and Sasha will be here soon.

“So, Sasha,” I say instead, “what did he tell you?”

She smiles, eyes taking a malicious but loving shine. “He texted us - Ibrahim and me - on our convo as soon as he got home. He couldn't believe it,” she laughs. “Ibrahim was ecstatic. He’s been rooting for them even more than me, I think.”

“I don't know him well, but can't say I’m surprised.”

She rolls her eyes, grinning. “He’s _ridiculous_. But he’s also the best.”

“Talking about me?” a voice calls out, and sure enough Elliot and Sasha are standing right next to us - holding hands until they sit. Sasha looks starstruck, but Elliot is positively beaming.

“Hi,” Sasha says. “Sorry we’re late.”

“Oh, I’m sure they don't mind,” Elliot chides, looking very smugly at me, mischievous grin saying way more than it should. I elbow him in the ribs. “Hey!”

“ _Anyway_ ,” I say, turning to Sasha, “it’s nice of you to join us. I’m sure Elliot wanted to keep you all to himself, can't have been easy to drag him here.”

He laughs, a little awkwardly, but Nancy doesn't let him squirm too much before chiming in.

“Especially considering all the time it took you both to figure it out.”

“Luckily for me, I had the help of the best friend ever,” Sasha says then, smiling at her.

“True,” she nods. “And I didn't even tell you that I’d told you so, even though I definitely told you so.”

“Not you too!” Sasha groans. I glance at Elliot, and he’s got the goofiest smile ever. “Ibrahim did it enough for the both of you.”

“Even if he hadn't, Alex’s said it enough for three anyway.”

“Hey!” I push Elliot’s shoulder, scandalized. “I did _not_!”

“You totally did! Five times! I _counted_.”

I scoff, and Nancy laughs. I would be mad at her, but honestly I don't have it in me. She looks too good laughing for me to do anything else but stare.

“You’re drooling,” Elliot whispers, smiling his crooked smile, and I kick his ankle.

“Shut up, you corny, oblivious, love-blinded _dork_ . You’ve been looking at Sasha like he’s the sun for _years_.”

This makes Sasha choke on his drink, and Elliot shoots me a murderous glare. Nancy, on the other hand, immediately asks for details that I, obviously, am more than happy to provide.

“Well -” I start, but Elliot immediately interrupts.

“Oh no you _don't_! Continue that sentence and I’m spilling all the dirt I’ve got on you, and believe me when I say I’ve got more than you.”

I immediately raise my hands in surrender and admit my defeat. “Sorry, can't risk it,” I say to Nancy, grinning in spite of myself, “I’ve got too much too lose.”

“That’s okay, I understand,” she says, eyes shining with barely contained laughter and _god,_ she’s beautiful.

“Oh?” Elliot pries, leaning in, “Sasha got some dirt on you too, then? That’s unexpected!”

Sasha leans in then, looking at his boyfriend with the devil’s smile. “You guys have no idea - Nancy’s freaking _wild_.”

She snorts and shakes her head at him, ponytail swinging with the movement, but she’s grinning almost as deviously as he is. “Don't give them the wrong idea, you’ve just known me for too long.” She turns to me then, grin taking a sheepish glint. “I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff in middle school.”

“To be fair, everyone’s fucking dumb in middle school,” I say, and Elliot laughs.

“Oh god, don’t even mention it. I can't believe I thought I was _straight_ for so long,” he says, rolling his eyes at himself.

“You did?” Sasha pries, and Elliot sighs like it’s the most tragic thing in the entire universe.

“You don't want to know.”

Nancy nods at him then, sympathetic and… knowing? I don’t have the time to wonder about her look, though, because then she speaks.

“Don't worry, I’ve been there,” she says, and it takes everything I have to unclench my hands around my glass before it breaks, because this is where I know whether I actually have a chance. “Trying to date guys was the most embarrassing decision I’ve ever taken,” she continues, visibly cringing at the memory. “Being in the closet is not something I will ever miss.”

Sasha snickers, and I’m vaguely aware that Elliot is telling some kind of embarrassing story about his closeted years, but my attention is entirely focused on Nancy and the implications of what she just said. Her skin is darker than usual around her neck and cheekbones, and she’s fidgeting with her straw as she listens to Elliot’s story - how he ran away from his first kiss with a boy because it felt so weird compared to when he’d kissed girls, I know the story -, and then she laughs again, vibrant and true. And _fuck me_ , she has dimples. I didn't think I could notice more cute things about her, but _she has dimples_. When she laughs.

“You -” the word is out of my mouth before I can figure out what I meant to add to it. “You're not straight,” I blurt out, because the only other option I can think to say is _You’re beautiful_ and there’s no way I’m saying this with anyone else around.

“Well, no, I... I’m gay. You didn't know?” she says, looking surprised and hesitant. I’m still staring. It feels like something’s stuck in my throat, and I try to cough it out. It doesn't work.

“I, uh, I didn't, actually.”

“Oh.”

“What about you, Alex?” Sasha asks then, and it takes me a second to process what he means. It doesn't help me much, though.

“Ah, uh - erm. I’m - I… don't know?”

Elliot doesn't turn to look at me, but there’s no mistaking it from the way he sounds. The asshole’s grinning. “Oh really? Three months ago you seemed pretty sure you were strictly heterosexual. I wonder what could have _possibly_ changed your mind?”

I make the mistake to glance at Nancy before I answer his taunt. She’s looking at me with a curiosity she’s very obviously trying to downplay - poorly, but it’s still cute. Pretty sure my whole face is on fire.

“Nothing. I just realized I might be interested in girls too is all,” I lie into my milkshake. Elliot scoffs. I kick his ankle.

 

* * *

##  **Nancy**

Sasha and Elliot are positively glowing. They look so happy and _calm_ now, as if something had finally lifted from their shoulders. Where once there were tensions, secrets, a space neither of them felt they could bridge, now stands a cover of peace that fills even the physical space their bodies cannot take up. It is appeasing to be around them, the way it is to sit in the sun and feel the warmth slowly seep into your flesh from up and far away. Like a dream made reality... which in many ways it is.

They don’t stay forever, though, and soon Alex and I are on our own again. It’s fine. It’s more than fine, really. We stay there talking our bodies out as if we could never run out of things to share. We talk about our favorite stories and make up twists on famous fairytales, we try to figure out what makes parents so like children sometimes, and we wonder about what it means that soon we’ll wear the name ‘adult’ on the amount of years we’ve lived like a goal, like a morning star we’ll probably  attempt to reach before we can fully comprehend its meaning. We picture ourselves as characters we know too well and professions we barely spell. We explore the subject of siblings: the oddly singular jealousy, the comparisons, the fights, and how strangely she misses all of them; the emptiness that sometimes fills up home when she is reminded that someone left, that someone took a piece away, that Adrianna is building a life somewhere she doesn’t know, somewhere she barely caught a glimpse of when they all helped her move in a studio - which she doesn’t even live in anymore.

We talk about fathers, we talk about mothers - the differences, the similarities, the love. We talk about nights with crying hands pressed into ears, tears big like comets as we beg to turn deaf from the anger next door. We talk about ruptures. We talk about comfort. We hold each other’s hands. At some point we went back to Redhill park, to the tree we consecrated as a place of confessions, laughter, and tears. There, we bask in our intimacy.

Everything seems dire when you’re a teenager. Every frustration is felt like the end of the world. Some blame the hormones, I prefer the future. Alex thinks it’s a strange mixture of both. We joke about our dramatics. When the atmosphere is still light but the evening is near, we go home. She rides on the back of my bicycle, and when I drop her off I say “good- _bi”_ , so she says “good _gay_ ”. We snicker like little kids.

It feels like the end of a date.

 

*****

 

**[To: Alex] Today was fun! I’m glad we got to hang out with the two lovebirds.**

**[From: Alex] totally!**

**[From: Alex] i mean we had to celebrate at this pt**

**[To: Alex] Agreed. See you tomorrow?**

**[From: Alex] wanna have lunch 2gther?**

**[From: Alex] the girls r busy and ellie will be w/ sasha**

**[From: Alex] i dont wanna eat alone ;(**

**[To: Alex] Sure! I’d love that.**

**[From: Alex] you’re the best!**

**[From: Alex] good night Nancy**

**[To: Alex] Good night, Alex.**

 

* * *

##  **Alex**

Cheer practice is always crazy the week before a game. Coach wants us there every day, as soon as we get out of class. She’s way too scary for anyone to be late, but somehow I manage to forget, and for ten excruciating minutes I think she’s going to kick me off the team. She makes me run twenty laps.

I blame Nancy.

She had no business running into me after class with her blue-black hair flying as wild as her smile, and with none of my friend around to get me moving. Of course I froze. Of course I stared. I’m just glad I was still able to form words at this point, to be honest. Worst thing is, there wasn’t even anything different with her. She looked and sounded just the same. Yet… It must be the lighting. I don’t know what it was about the sun at that moment, but she was standing right next to a big window and the way the light poured from outside just straight up made her _glow_. It was like looking at a full moon, when the light it reflects outshines every single star for miles and miles of the dark blue sky. Every thought of practice just flew right out of my head. There was just Nancy, arguing about Star Wars, and there was me, trying to keep up with the points of her argument when her presence overwhelmed every one of my senses. Electricity was spreading through my veins like wildfire. It was crazy - until all of a sudden Nancy asked where my friends were, and reality came crashing down on me like a bucket of cold water.

If anything though, I’m thankful for the crazy amount of practice sessions we’re forced to get. Cheers is the best outlet of all, and boy do I have _a lot_ of bottled energy to express. When I’m practicing, everything fades but my body - _our_ bodies. There is no mind, only reflexes, muscles and skin. The choreography is in my bones and flesh. There is only to _do_. Stay focused and let your body does what it knows best. Keep an eye out for mistakes. Be reactive.

If I could be as sure of myself with bodies as I am with people, everything would be so much simpler.

I would walk up to Nancy and ask her out. No unnecessary questions, no aching desires, no _thinking_.

She would either say yes or no, and whichever answer she’d give would be honest and kind, because that’s just the way she is.

I wouldn’t be afraid.

I wouldn’t chicken out.

I wouldn’t play countless scenarios in my head.

 _Boring_ , Gabi’s voice says in my head. I can’t help but remember that Nancy said something similar on the day we started to talk.

_“I never feel more alive than when I’m out of my comfort zone.”_

How long has it been now? A month? Is it normal that I don’t remember the date? It doesn’t feel like just a month. It feels like years, one at the very least. It feels like barely three seconds.

What was it that Gabi said? _“Feelings are not rational”_ \- something like this, but wordier probably.

I wish humans were as simple as biology makes them out to be. I guess ‘simple’ isn’t the right word - logical, then. I wish there was a way to predict and explain all those weird things no one really seems to be fazed by. Like, why do even people who hate rain enjoy singing _I’m singing in the rain_ , or why do we all so desperately want to believe that there’s someone else out there, be it aliens or gods, and why is it that smiling makes a person shine brighter? What chemical reactions can explain our fascination with the sky? What rational processes have led to my parents pretending to be in love for twenty years? What sort of neural connections decide whether this person’s a bully or a victim?

Is there even an answer? Objective or subjective, whichever. I’m not picky, I just want one - or three extra hours of practice.

I’m still tangled in _what ifs_ when the day of the game finally comes.

 

* * *

##  **Nancy**

It’s odd, how intense this particular game feels. However acutely aware I am of the fact that it’s all really inside of my head, I cannot help but feel this energy coming off of the crowd. As if we were all breathing together. I don’t know any of them, and chances are they don’t know me, either. Not the way you know someone anyway - we are just faces to each other, clichés and voices with nothing true to fill them up. Yet we are gathered, and in my chest I cannot help but feel we share the same sense of anticipation.

The stakes are up.

I wonder if Alex feels it too. I wonder if she knows.

I have gone to most games since freshman year. The first time, it had been because Sasha hadn’t wanted to go alone, and we barely made it in time. I’d been expecting noise, rowdiness, and boredom. What I _had_ gotten was noise, rowdiness, and an unexpected amount of fun. The crowd had been overwhelming and the game confusing, but over it all somehow I could hear the sound of my heartbeat drumming in union with my running thoughts, for once in harmony. It hadn’t been comfortable, really, but it had been fun. It had been wild. So when another game had come up and Sasha had been busy, I’d convinced Ibrahim to come with. I have to admit, though, that no matter how fun the games’ atmosphere was, well - not unlike Sasha, the cheerleaders had a lot to do with my being drawn back to the stadium every time.

The first time I saw them perform, I felt attraction in a way I had never allowed myself to feel before.

It’s weird, how I’d never thought about it before. I had all those vague thoughts of softness and cute dates, but here were girls with thunder in their thighs and eyes full of flames and a storm in their voices, and suddenly everything made sense.

I was breath-taken.

 

*****

 

Today the game feels like a tide receding, each outburst of the crowd or figure of the cheer team a wave after a wave after a wave, and they keep drawing back, further and further still, until the game is over and the final wave draws back in the same second the crowd erupts, and I yell with them all, and I am overwhelmed. I’m almost sure we won.

Our cheer team strides into the field one last time, and my heartbeat misses. I am desynchronized. Suddenly there is a crowd and in the middle of it is me, and across the bleachers she stands. Strong, tall and beautiful. Moving. Focused.

My choice is already made, but this is my last chance to give up.

I don’t.

When the game is over and the bleachers start to spill their humongous sea of people, I let myself be carried away with it. The air tastes like greasy hot dogs and sweat. The late morning sun sheds a strange light on the harsh white walls and the asphalt glistens, throwing flashes through my pupils every time I turn my head. Somebody’s shoulder bumps into me and I hurry to the side, out of the crowd. From what I remember Alex telling me, the cheer team’s changing room is somewhere on the right from the exit.

The door is easy to find. It’s pink, because how else can you insist on the fact that this is a girl’s changing room. Surely the sign that spells GIRL’S CHANGING ROOM and the pictogram of a person wearing a dress aren’t enough. Where does Elliot go to change, anyway? With the football team? He is well-liked by everyone, after all, so maybe he does. Maybe my opinion on footballers is prejudiced.

There is laughter coming from the other side of the door. Shrieking. Shouts and words. Classic cheerleading changing room, as pictured as in every American high school movie ever. Except probably not. There are probably way more muscle and period pads and tampons and bruises than these movies are comfortable showing. Less white people, too - but that’s not just a high school movies problem.

The coach’s voice booms suddenly and all laughing stops, and my heart jumps out of my ribcage. I stumble a few steps away from the pink door. My hands are shaking, so I bury them in the pockets of my dress. Dad helped me choose it. It’s comfortable and just an inch more formal than what I usually wear, and it “brings out the blue shine” in my hair. I must have worn that dress three times at most, but dad remembered it. I had forgotten it even existed.

The door bursts open.

Jess is first, arm draped around the shoulders of an unknown face. She shoots me a look I don’t have the time to decipher. Three other girls follow, then Carla comes out with her eyes glued to her phone. Amina is next. She waves at me, and I wave back.

When Alex comes out, Gabi tells her to look left with a smirk. She turns. She stops. Gabi says something I don’t hear but then she’s gone, and all the others are too. I don’t know which one of us smiles first. They are nervous, awkward smiles, but it feels nice. To see her so nervous. To share, for a second, this mutual “ _don’t worry I’m scared too”_ grin.

“You were great,” I say. “On the field, I mean. That jump was really impressive.” For once her hair is loose, and it falls on her shoulder with a slight wave. She is wearing a black t-shirt and shorts, and I’m very careful not to look at her legs.

“Thanks. I almost fucked it up, but Jess corrected it.” She brings a hand to the back of her neck and leaves it here, laughing a little. “You look cute, by the way. Hm, that dress, I, uh, haven’t seen you wear it before.”

My hands are getting sweatier by the second. “Thank you,” I say, grinning through the nerves. We both know what is going to happen. When, on the other hand, remains a mystery. Hopefully sometime before tomorrow. “You look hot.”

She blushes. We both do, really.

I take a couple steps forward.

“...Thanks,” she croaks out.

A moment passes where we both stare, speechless, waiting for the other to speak first. To move first. We know what we are waiting for. We know this is the time, the place, the us. The space in-between is fleeting. Then suddenly a breath, shaking, drawled out, like a rubber snapping. We both speak at the same time.

“Do you want to -”

“Would you -”

There is a silence and we laugh, just a little. The tension crumbles down and the space shrinks. We stand there, smiling. She lets me speak first.

“Yes,” I say.

She breathes out a laugh. “Same here.”

“Good.”

I’m smiling like a goof. She nods.

“Good.”

Another silence. The space shrinks, pulls us in like magnets. She has freckles sprinkled on her nose, along the curve of her cheekbones. Summer blossoms.

“Can I kiss you?”

We do. It is soft and wet and I never want to stop.

 

*****

 

“That was my first kiss,” I say, later, when we are sitting at the foot of our tree, holding hands and sharing kisses with the tastes of our milkshakes.

“It was my first gay kiss,” she says.

“Is it different?”

“Than guys?” She lets her eyes wander up to the branches of the tree. “Not really. You don’t wear lipstick.”

“I don’t.”

She looks back down at me, smiling. “It’s always better when I like the person, though.”

I grin. “I’m glad my first kiss was with you then.”

She laughs a little, and leans down. Her lips taste like caramel ice cream.

No routine was ever worth giving this up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, it's me again! Hopefully you liked how I decided to close Nancy and Alex's story.  
> I want to give a big shout out to my friends Madeshika, Aoquesth, Nichanana and Cupcakeofcrowns for all the proof-reading, feedback and endless support they've given me on this work and others. They are my unofficial betas, and they are amazing.
> 
> Please consider telling me what you think, good and bad, and feel free to check out my other works! I have a few chaptered stories I'd like to try and write when I have some time, most of them in the Fantasy genre, so I may or may not start posting again sometime soon - soon as in not two years later, anyway.
> 
> I hope you're all having a beautiful (and gay) day!
> 
> Lots of love to you all.


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